“Hey there,” Roland greeted his large friend as he entered the latter’s room. “You’re looking a lot less dead than earlier.”

“Instead you seem have picked it up,” Arthur replied with a frown, rising from his small looking bed. “Everything alright, Boss?”

Being one of the oldest kids still living in the Crescent Moon Orphanage, Arthur had one room to himself, though it looked smaller and even more spartan than the other ones. Something its inhabitant did not mind one bit.

“You know when you’re eating a great meal, everything is tasty, the water is fresh and you feel happy? And then, at the last bite, you taste something so incredibly vile, it ruins the whole meal,” Roland liberally explained his current mood, plopping down on the now unoccupied bed while letting out a forced yawn. “That’s how I feel right now.”

“You are losing me with your fancy metaphors, Boss,” Arthur noted, unsure of how serious he should take the situation. “Is the old lady fine?”

“Why so full of questions, my friend?” Roland asked, sporting a lopsided grin. “Here I am about to lay bare my worries, only to be promptly ignored. You should try harder to live up to your reputation as an ‘obstinate wall’. Give out a scathing look but remain silent.”

“When did I ever earn such a questionable reputation?” Arthur muttered under his breath, before sitting down next to his prone leader, wondering why today seemed to be so chaotic for some reason. “I’m listening.”

Despite his earlier words, and Arthur’s invitation, Roland did not start talking, and instead stared blankly at the ceiling. His stoic friend waited silently, wry look on his face. ‘Exasperated wall’ might have fit better at the current moment. At the very least Arthur knew things weren’t too bad, because his leader would never display such ennui in a critical situation.

“Arthur,” Roland called out listlessly, despite already having the large boy’s undivided attention. “What do you think is the difference between a good person and a hero?”

“Huh,” Arthur exclaimed in slight surprise, still entirely lost on what was going on. But the answer to his boss’s question came easy to him. “Good people are half baked. Always trying to appear righteous despite never sacrificing anything of importance. If you’re not going to go the whole way, might as well not do anything in the first place.”

Small tremors ran through Roland as he chuckled quietly, before breaking out in unstoppable laughter. Crossing his arms over his shoulders, he rolled around the bed, laughing like a small child, which had just heard a boisterous fart.

He probably wouldn’t have been surprised by Claire’s statement at all. It was me who had the wrong idea all this time. How foolish of me to not believe in my dear Arthur.

“Good answer,” Roland wheezed out, small giggles still escaping his throat. Sitting up, he threw one arm around the amused looking Arthur. “Truly my most capable lieutenant.”

Giving his companion one last grin, he enthusiastically jumped off the bed, once again ready for whatever the world decided to throw at him. Because the one thing Roland was truly exceptional at was getting up quickly no matter how often or far he fell down.

“Don’t know how much of a compliment that is,” Arthur scoffed. “Considering the competition.”

“Fair enough,” Roland agreed. “Lieutenant ‘better than whatever else I got on hand’, assemble at the front gate in five minutes. We got a hopefully fruitful training session to get to.”

Leaving Arthur behind, Roland went towards his own room to prepare some things. Walking through the deserted hallway, he couldn’t help but be thankful about having found such good friends.

There is no need to be upset that Claire will probably never be a real companion. Some people go their whole life without meeting a single person who understands them. I should be happy to have found two already, even if one of them is not particularly presentable.

*

The public training was an opportunity for less well-off families to allow their kids to receive some pointers, hopefully having them show of their talent and get recruited for future Knight training or military service.

It was held every month, when a group of soldiers, led by four to five Knights, made their way over from the garrison. In the past there had only been one big group, consisting mostly of boys with a few girls mixed in, that assembled in the public square in front of Soren’s Cathedral, the place being specifically reserved for the duration of the training.

The arrival of a certain righteous young lady a couple of years ago had however drastically changed things up. She, despite her obviously noble status, participated in the training. Inspired by her example, an absurd amount of young girls participated next time. And although many of them only came that one time, there had still been a need for the creation of an additional group, mostly to ensure the instructors’ continued mental well-being.

For simplicity’s sake the split had been made by gender, ultimately forming two groups of about equal size. The second group was even allowed to practice in the Lunar Church's own training hall. A beautiful blonde, basically priestess might have something to do with them being allowed to use the otherwise strongly restricted facilities.

This conjecture was strongly supported by the happy looks said girl displayed every month during the training, when she coincidentally wandered nearby, bringing refreshments and cheers for Claire.

Worth mentioning was that a surprising number of sons fell out of favor in the months following the second group’s establishment, when parents suddenly realized their daughters were actually the more talented ones.

Quite a few boys had to stop roughhousing in the dirt with their friends, instead they were told to dress well, act friendly and try to impress some rich merchant daughters. Oh, how quickly the tables could turn if one didn’t put the effort in.

And just like that the City Lord’s arrival had, thanks to his lovely daughter, brought a piece of urban culture to Soren, a city that despite being large and old, was still very much as backwater as it got when it came to some things. The low number of Knights, and almost complete lack of resident Mages, made its social norms mostly conform to the view of mortals. Something not seen in larger or even equally sized cities in the kingdom proper, much less the capital.

After all, it was only natural that mortal conventions lost hold in areas where it didn't matter whether someone was a man or a woman, only how strongly they needed to wave their hand to smear your remains across a wall.

Huffing and puffing like an army of particularly annoying kettles, about a hundred boys, aged between eight and sixteen, were breaking a sweat in the public square. The older ones, especially one particularly large lad, displayed fluid movements as they followed the warm up routine the soldiers had taught them over the years.

The younger ones on the other hand tried their best to mimic them, a few steel-clad soldiers pointing out their mistakes and helping if they had trouble. During the warm up only about a dozen soldiers helped out, whereas two Knights stood at the side, observing the children dutifully, recent events having made them more thoughtful towards some of their supposed responsibilities.

The regular soldiers wore almost full steel plate armor, but were luckily allowed to take off their helmets for the training. Though it was without a doubt still incredibly hot for them, running around armored like this during the height of summer. Something not reflected at all in their expressions.

Barely dropping a sweat, it looked like they wore lose tunics instead of literally slowly overheating metal. Their quick and easy movements made many of the boys grit their teeth in determination, not willing to be outdone by people wearing their own body weight in armor.

Ultimately the shocking prowess of these soldiers was not strange. The military had absolutely no need for regular mortals. Each of these stalwart men and women was expected to break through and become Knights in the somewhat near future, or retire to more clerical positions if they did not succeed before turning forty.

Such strict requirements made it so even the lowest rank of soldiers were at the peak of mortal strength, each of them powerful enough to tear a fully grown bear apart with their bare hands.

Unlike these normal soldiers, the two spectating Knights were clad in leather armor. Which while tightly fitting and exquisitely crafted, paled slightly compared to the shining steel. A fact obviously not indicative of its actual value and strengths.

In reality it was the best mass-produced runic armor you could buy on a tight budget, each only costing about as much as the equipment of a thousand mortal soldiers. Something that according to various Artificers should be considered an actual crime against humanity itself. Then again, any artisan would disdain cheap knockoff products of his own fine crafts.

This lightweight armor’s main purpose was to boost these Knights offensive and sensory abilities. Its defensive strength might be good enough to harmlessly deflect regular weapons, but would do barely anything to stop a full powered attack from an opposing Knight.

Increasing their perception and reflexes, the runic armor allowed these Knights to see further, hear better and react faster. It also helped regulate their internal energy, making them use it more efficiently and to a greater degree than they normally could. All in all, to these two Knights their armors could be considered just as much a weapon as the spear and sword on their respective backs.

A dark brown, made from many intertwining parts, the armor looked almost like one big piece flowing over most of their body and giving them a slightly dreary look. The only bit of color came from the armbands they wore. Shining white cloth held the coat of arms of Vasperi, a red six-winged bird soaring upwards.

Their armor had been bought from foreign merchants, whereas these eye-catching emblems were produced by the kingdom’s own Artificers. It established them as proper soldiers, being fit to fight and die for their country. And in times of danger, they could activate this Artifact, making it burn itself to cinders while giving them an explosive boost of speed, to either flee from danger or overwhelm their opponent.

Two more figures could be seen on the field beside the odd hundred children, twelve mortal soldier and two Knights. In a corner of the square, away from any commotion, Roland stood opposite the third Knight who came today.

Bloodshot eyes with his unkempt black hair standing haphazardly in a dozen different directions, this knight looked a lot older, and shabbier, than his bright-eyed companions. Clad in worn down leather armor that might have looked impressive a few decades ago when it had originally been created, currently however showed nothing in common with the runic armors of the other ones. The beat-up cape hanging listlessly across his shoulders, and one incredibly short sword dangling from his hip, made one wonder how this old man sneaked into the military.

A question that could be easily answered by a quick look at his back. The cheap cape actually had a gigantic six-winged bird embroidered onto it. This man called Edwin Methul was an officer of Vasperi’s army, possessing vast strength. To the point that cheap runic armor became entirely useless to him.

Without any conflict on the horizon, and factoring in a backwater posts predictably low salary, Edwin actually had no real armor to wear. Even his garish cape possessed no actual use, being nothing but a plain piece of cloth instead of a useful Artifact.

The impossibility of giving each officer equipment sufficient for his or her power level had ultimately led to the general rule that they took care of their own needs, special grants being handed out from time to time to financially support tactically significant purchases. And as military discipline could not suppress the individuality of powerful Knights, they were allowed to choose where and how to display the coat of arms. Provided it looked respectful and was easily visible.

Many famous military Knights and Mages could easily be recognized by the way they chose to display this honor, only given to the worthiest. The fact that capital punishment awaited anyone who bore such an emblem without permission, made Edwin’s cape have more deterring power than a fully armed battalion, provided his opponent knew of its significance.

This unimpressive looking but actually highly ranked Knight observed the movements he had ordered Roland to display, looking extremely unenthused. Edwin, many months ago, accepted a shifty looking brats offer to supply hard to acquire foreign delicacies to him and one of his fellow officers. Said delicacies were also known as strong liquor that did not taste like ass. A combination not easily found in Soren.

The convenient arrangement should have ended with them recommending a publicly well-known, hard-working boy to their commander, had turned sideways at the last possible moment. Multiple times. In lieu of a quick one minute conversation where they did what should actually be considered one of their duties, they had instead been beaten half dead by Commander Grace.

Barely recovered by now, Edwin looked at the source of their trouble, thinking about how much of a chore it would be to come here every other month. But ultimately, he did not dare pay the brat off, in fear of another beating. So doing some extra work seemed to be the easiest way to bury whatever fault the commander suddenly found in their behavior.

Breathing heavily, Roland finished his performance, having kicked, punched and ran according to instructions continuously for a good ten minutes. He remained skeptical about how beneficial this would be. There was however no harm in trying. And as Edwin’s first comment showed, despite looking almost offensively languid and disinterested, he took things at least somewhat seriously.

“It’s strange,” Edwin commented, looking at Roland’s feet. “Your legs act weird when running. Like they are used to faster speeds but can’t perform at their best for some reason.”

Roland’s eyes widened at the Knights observation, instantly thinking about his almost nightly excursion inside the visions.

Guess I shouldn’t underestimate a real Knights, no matter how he looks. To think he could notice something like that from my movements alone. I had no idea.

“What should I do about that, sir?” Roland asked, still winded, but eager for advice.

“Seeing you have such good control over them, it’s fine to leave your legs for the time being,” Edwin replied confidently, stroking the slight stubble of a beard on his chin. “They’ll need your whole body to improve before displaying their real power, so regular training is enough there. The problem is the rest, especially your arms.”

Crossing the three meters between them in a single step Edwin appeared beside Roland, grabbing the boy’s arms to showcase some of Roland’s earlier movements. A small tingle surging through his limbs, Roland found himself nudged towards the required positions, not fully controlled but strongly guided.

“You are already making a lot of wasted movements with your arms, often ignoring them entirely,” Edwin explained, having Roland take quick turns and showcase some kicks. “Although there is nothing wrong in focusing on your strengths, weaknesses will continue to make more and more trouble, until every bit of improvement you make gets cut in half because of them.”

Paying attention to his arms, Roland realized how they often slowed his movements or hindered him slightly, something he had never noticed before today.

How did I not see something so blindingly obvious?

“Don’t beat yourself up too much,” Edwin comforted Roland, apparently having seen the frustration on the boy’s face. “Not something you can easily notice in everyday life and training, even if you have a more adventurous lifestyle. The search for the perfect movements is something everyone on the path to Knighthood will go through. And as our bodies get more flexible and less mortal, we often go into directions not possible for normal humans. This of course makes it beyond easy to see the countless inefficiencies people like you display.”

The advice is turning out to be miles better than expected. By now Roland hung on every word of Edwin’s, never having dreamed of receiving useful advice that easily. If only I could have heard the same advice one year ago. How much stronger would I be now?

“You being gifted in the use of your legs is something to be happy about,” Edwin explained. “What you need to do now is to turn your arms from a hindrance to a support. Increase their flexibility and your own awareness of them. While keeping up general strength training of course.”

Eagerly awaiting the Knight’s ideas on how to best fix these glaring problems, Roland got stumped when the latter kept looking at him quietly, not offering any more opinions.

“How would I best go about that, Lieutenant Methul?” Roland asked, bad premonition rising at the back of his mind.

“Train your arms I guess,” Edwin replied uninterested, confirming Roland’s feeling. “I explained so much already, now the time has come for you to put in the effort. To be honest you are much too physically weak, even for someone young. So don’t expect much.” Looking across the practicing boys he ignored Roland’s strained look.

Now this seems more like it. Thanks for not making me doubt my observational skills. Would be hard if I had to second guess every person I categorized as an asshole before.

“Get your big friend to come over, I’ll give him some pointers too,” Edwin shooed Roland away tiredly, the few minutes of actual work having sapped his spirit greatly. “You both can come over near the end and we’ll discuss what you learned today.”

“Yes, sir,” Roland saluted, trying to not show his exasperation. Let’s hope he is back to being somewhat helpful later. Despite being annoyed at the officer so blatantly shortchanging him, Roland could not deny his advice so far had been stellar.

I guess I’ll consider us square for now. But don’t blame me for taking drastic measures if this will be all the enthusiasm you plan to display.

Approaching his companion, who practiced at the edge of the sweaty horde, Roland received envious gazes from the surrounding boys, though some awe-filled ones were also present, especially in the younger ones. Them being one of Roland’s best demographics and all that.

“That was quick,” Arthur commented, barely winded. He was saving most of his strength for Edwin’s observation.

“Yes, it was,” Roland replied, smiling wryly. “Also surprisingly insightful. Don’t expect the world, but any advice you can get out of him should be worth a lot.” Nodding towards Edwin, Roland indicated for Arthur to head over right away.

Equally intrigued and suspicious, Arthur walked towards the lonesome Knight. Opportunities for one-on-one training with a Knight were valuable, no matter how short lived.

Roland kept an eye on his friend, thinking about the best ways to go about implementing Edwin’s advice. I guess looking for some training routines for arm flexibility while keeping in mind what he told me would be a good start. But there is something else to consider. The reason for my legs being used to higher speeds is obviously the absurd amount of running I have to do inside the vision, coupled with my increased physical capabilities in there. Training my arm control during a vision should be quite helpful, though obvious problems prevent me from ever doing that.

Roland’s visions weren’t some leisure time to be spent training himself. He had to search for his target and do his best to absorb as much information about the cause of death and its circumstances as possible. Even purely focusing on the way his arms behaved when he ran at top speeds could lead to missing some important detail on his search, and in the worst case end up causing him to head into the wrong direction entirely.

Just when Roland considered asking one of the soldiers for some advice on how they trained their arms, he saw Arthur return after less than five minutes, steaming with frustration. Though it did not seem to be directed towards Edwin. The latter walked over to the other Knights, paying no more attention to the two boys.

“Well, what's the damage?” Roland asked, after Arthur showed no signs of talking, instead silently brooding over his own problems. Like usual.

“He told me my inner control is lacking, especially for the strength I have,” Arthur replied, frustration plainly visible. “And after I showed my ‘Inner Breathing Sutra’ he kept shaking his head like it that would somehow helpful.”

Yeah, that’s one way to be direct. Edwin ought to consider becoming a teacher. Fixing everyone’s problems, one five-minute session at a time.

Sighing loudly, Arthur continued hesitantly, “He concluded by saying I had more than enough aptitude, so I should reduce all physical training and get my mind in order instead. Solve or ignore whatever is bothering me, and train the ‘Inner Breathing Sutra’ with an empty head for a month or two.”

The look he gave Roland, although not overly envious, showed how much he wanted his own ability to focus the mind to be on par with his leader’s, who was extremely proficient at using the ‘Inner Breathing Sutra’, despite being younger by more than a year. Arthur was about to ask Roland what Edwin’s advice had been for him when he stiffened, noticing his leader’s gaze directed towards a red pocket, holding a certain old booklet.

“Basically, you think too much,” Roland stated, not particularly surprised by the conclusion. Though very impressed Edwin was able to figure out his friend so quickly. “Well, you probably already know what I’m going to say about that.”

Roland couldn’t help but be sad for his companion, being casually told to fix the doubts that had been plaguing him for years. At the same time, hope rose inside of him, that his friend might finally step past a very old obstacle and be finally freed from the past. If all went well.

“Yeah, I know,” Arthur replied, looking much more tired than he should be. “You think I should go find them.” Sighing loudly Arthur looked down at the ground, face split between hesitation and annoyance.

Like that cheapskate suggested, either solve or ignore it. And ignoring has not worked well for you so far, my friend.

“I know they are on your mind a lot,” Roland noted, trying not to force his opinion on Arthur. “If you think it would help your problem, you should do it. Is what I will diplomatically suggest.” Crooked smile on his face, Roland tried to cheer up Arthur.

“I’ll think about it,” Arthur ultimately said, before getting his head in the game. “We only have one opportunity every month, let’s use it. What’s the advice you got? We can go around and ask the soldiers how they deal with similar problems. Afterwards we get together and try their ideas. And hopefully we’ll get some final pointers from the cheapskate in the end.”

You know things are bad when Arthur is enthusiastic about talking to people. Well, briefly procrastination the issue is probably better than brooding needlessly in this situation.

“I need to work on arm flexibility and awareness,” Roland replied, agreeing with Arthur’s forced suggestion, because he did not see much else they could do at the moment. “They are holding back my legs it seems.”

“I see,” Arthur remarked skeptically, somehow not really seeing much value in the advice his leader received. “Let’s do our best.” Face strained at his own awkward pep talk, Arthur shook his head. Approaching the nearest soldier for advice, he was fully prepared for disappointment.

Here goes nothing.

Heading into the fray himself, Roland hoped this was not an indication of how their future public training would go.